Ready for some angst and whatnot? Well just to warn ya'll, this story as quite a bit!

I'm sorry my other two stories are stuck on the account of writer's block: ( Maybe this story will help me!

Here's the first chapter.

I own nothing but my ideas!

Enjoy!

She liked it there. The walls were white. The blankets were a light blue. They let her shower as much as she wanted. There were no germs. No germs.

"None. None." Her mantra was a small one, a quiet one. She wiped at her pale yellow nightgown and looked out the window. It was raining again. Normally that would have bothered her. But she was safe here. The mud puddles were a good four stories below her.

She hadn't eaten in two days. They made her drink water. She complied, because they let her clean her own shower before using it.

A soothing voice roused her from her dreams. "Sweetie. There's someone here to see you." She acknowledged the voice with a small moan. Her only visitors for the past few months were new doctors from across the country. "He's very handsome. He thinks he knows who you are."

"Who I am." She stated. She didn't ask. She knew who she was. She was Jane Doe A9856. That's how it would remain for the rest of her miserable life. That was until one voice, one word, penetrated her thoughts.

"Emma?"

///

He had been looking for her for two months, three weeks, and 5 days. He drove across Ohio, he filed two missing person's report, he called her parents every night and made sure she hadn't shown up there. They were just as concerned as he was, but at some point they were the ones comforting him. They told him that she had a reason for avoiding him. And that's when the guilt set in.

Two months, three weeks, and 6 days ago…

She was scared. That much was clear. He came home from a very stressful Glee practice to find her sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees drawn to her chest. There was a large pile of what used to be their favorite dish set smashed on the floor. Normally this sight would have switched on coddle mode immediately, but after dealing with the baby drama with Finn and Quinn, and hearing Rachel nag about song choices for three hours, he wasn't in the mood.

"What is it now?" He sighed rubbing his hands over his face in irritation. "Emma! Were those the yellow daisy plates?"

She looked up at him, her large eyes glazed with tears. "Roach…" She whispered pointing at the floor where she had seen the vile creature crawling over two hours ago.

"A bug! All of this because of a damn bug?" He laughed and shook his head. "You have got to be kidding me!" He kicked the pile of porcelain.

"I'm sorry!" She whimpered. "It…it was…"

"Sweetie! You need to get over this crap!" Will grabbed her knees, which were still drawn up under her chin. "I don't know how much longer I could…take it…" He gasped the last part.

"I'm sorry." She repeated, tears flowing freely now. "I didn't mean to drop them!" He stepped away from her and began to push the shards together with his feet.

"I know! It was an accident! It's always an accident! It's a disability! I should be more understanding right?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But that's what I should be right? I'm insensitive!"

"No you're not! Will I'll clean it up!" She tried to jump down, but he pushed her back onto the counter.

"You're not wearing shoes! Stay put! The last thing I need is you freaking out about your feet bleeding!" He glared at her before going at getting a broom. "I'm done with this!"

"Done?" Emma sniffled wiping at her eyes.

"I'm done with your crazy shit!" He yelled as he began to sweep. "We're going to a shrink tomorrow! Or something! You're letting it rule your life!"

"I don't need help Will!"

"Yes you do!" He countered. "I can't be with you if you stay like this!" He took his anger out on the porcelain as he swept with intensity.

Suddenly, she was off of the counter. She walked through the broken china and stormed out the front door, with bloody feet. He stared after her in shock. At first he didn't know she was leaving. She didn't have shoes on and yet she walked outside. He heard her car start up and speed off.

He doesn't know what was wrong with him. Never in his life could he imagine treating her like that. She was his world. She was the love of his life. And he had yelled at her for something she couldn't control. He took the last month off of school to search for her. He went to Regionals with the kids, before delving back into finding her. He needed to know where she was.

He needed to know.

He needed to know where she was.

She wasn't in Ohio. He knew she wasn't in Ohio. If she had gone home, her mother would have told him just to get him to stop calling her. He drove through Indiana. He drove through Illinois, through Iowa. He didn't stay in hotels; he slept in his beat up old van at rest stops for about two hours every night.

He called hospitals across the state. "Thirty years old, about one hundred and fifteen pounds, five-foot four inches tall, red hair, brown eyes." He described her at least two hundred times a day. No one matched that description.

One day, the blue monster that was his vehicle gave up on him. It broke down in the middle of nowhere in Nebraska. After a few hours of unsuccessful tinkering with the engine, he began kicking the van and yelling at it.

He almost didn't hear his cell phone ringing in his pocket.

'…We saw your missing person's report...'

'…There was an accident…"

'…Terrified of being touched…hates dirt…asking for Will…"

The woman on the other end had told him so many things. But the only thing he heard was:

'She's safe.'

She was safe. She was in some psychiatric hospital in the mountains of Colorado. But she was safe.

///

Suicidal. It was the one word he would never have used to describe her. Eccentric, neurotic, or anxious perhaps, but Emma Pillsbury was not suicidal. Despite the fact that the filthy world terrified her, she loved life.

"…She drove her car into a river..."

"…Broke a mirror in the bathroom and tried to slash her wrists..."

"…Smuggled medication to overdose…"

"No!" Will argued covering his mouth. "It can't be her…She wouldn't." He surprised himself by HOPING that it wasn't Emma. The idea of driving her to a breaking point was too much for him to bear.

"She doesn't know her name." The nurse continued as they walked down a long corridor. "Or at least she doesn't respond to it. Right after I called you the other day, I tried to address her with the name you had given me. But she showed no indication that she knew what I was talking about."

They stopped in front of a large white door with a small, pane less window. Inside, he could see a small form huddled under blue blankets and sheets on a twin sized metal-framed bed. The nurse opened the door and he followed her in.

"Sweetie. There's someone here to see you." The elderly woman told the woman on the bed. "He's very handsome. He thinks he knows who you are."

He could see red hair. He could see frail, alabaster fingers clutching the blankets. Then he knew.

He heard a small mutter, one he couldn't quite make out. In fact, he wasn't sure that he was fully listening. The pain of finding someone you cherish in a mental asylum in the mountains is always deafening. Especially when you're the one who drove them there.

"Emma?" He called cautiously.